


Right to Exist.

by eikvaren



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dan and Phil World Tour 2018: Interactive Introverts, Established Relationship, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Introspection, M/M, Non-binary character, Phil Lester Is A Sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 16:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15998915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eikvaren/pseuds/eikvaren
Summary: In a universe where Dan has been questioning his gender throughout Interactive Introverts.





	Right to Exist.

_"I have to give myself_  
_a new birth. I have to_  
_give birth to a new time."_

_\- Anna Swir, trans. by Czeslaw Milosz, from The Selected Poems; 'I Do Not Accept,'_

_\---_

  
10.

It all starts at half eleven, laying longways across the grey sofa in their lounge, his feet resting on Phil's lap. The only noise found in the flat is that ever-present hum in an aged laptop.

Dan's on one of his hourless deep-dive internet searches, and through a series of Wikipedia articles and other miscellaneous links and clicks, he's found himself scrolling on a Subreddit for non-binary people.

Not that he doesn't know what non-binary is—it's 2018. In his own view, gender isn't required to even be a concept anymore. He just often finds himself in the habit of reading and understanding people's personal experiences among things, dealing with what he can't know himself. It's the different perspective he likes.

This Subreddit seems to be mostly selfies of various people and genders; showing off their makeup looks, dresses, haircuts. There are a few people asking for advice on how to go shopping for clothes not made for their assigned gender, or coming out issues with family or friends.

Then he finds an ask/answer thread, the assigned question being: _"What does being nonbinary/genderqueer feel like for everyone here?"_

_“Being genderqueer for me feels a lot like... IDK, sometimes I like it. Sometimes I'm glad that I get to experience the world in such a unique way to most people, grow/mature from it, and make friends in this community. Sometimes I'm neutral and just accept that, I am what or who I am. Sometimes I feel like crap, and wish I could just be cis, or even binary-trans so at least I have a reasonable goal for myself. And binary-trans rights are still a huge issue in this country, but I feel like people are wayyy more likely to be accepting of that than some 'made-up Tumblr bullshit'. I sometimes feel like wanting to choose a side. But I guess I don't have a choice. Sometimes I hate my body, and some days I don't, but I don't really feel like surgery or hormones would be able to change that for me. A lot of 'sometimes' for me.”_

_“It feels kinda sucky to realize that I'll never be able to pass as my actual gender, and the best I can get is androgynous. Unless I specifically state my pronouns, I'm always going to be misgendered”_

_“For me it feels like my entire life I'm almost suffocating in little gendered boxes. MAAB people can't wear dresses, only girls wear makeup, men like women, women like men. It's gotten a bit better though. More than that, it's a physical knot in my chest sometimes when I try to go to the restroom and there's only 'male’or 'female' with the two signs. I know it's not the biggest deal in the world, but it's kinda like I'm not even a thought to 99% of the population and my insides are being squeezed when I'm forced to confront that. (If that makes sense lol :P).”_

_“being under the nonbinary umbrella feels really special, like not many people feel this way at all. but I do, and you do, and it's sort of like a special club for us together. some days dysphoria is shitty especially when little can be helped, but the pride of being myself overrules that entirely. i'm glad to be me :^)”_

_“I'm comfortable presenting masculine (beard, men's clothing, short hair, etc...) and I go by he/him pronouns, but it always feels weird when people call me a 'man'. Yeah, I guess I look and sound like a dude and do everything a dude should do. Dunno. It just feels wrong, I don't want to be called a woman either. I don't want to be called anything. But you don't really try to explain to people that as a 6'2 hairy buff guy who's the epitome of manliness, you don't actually want to be called 'man'.”_

Reading over the dozens of varieties in responses, Dan finds himself understanding, and relating some of them. He understands presenting as male, but not wanting to be called a man. It's always offset him a bit. Difficult to explain, but luckily not a problem he's felt everyday, or even often at all.

He feels it perfectly, being forced to fit into societies boxes and rules—not just with sexuality, but acting a certain way, or feeling a certain way, that's always just been the way he is.

Thinking over it, there's always been expectations and parts of himself he's been uncomfortable with, even beyond gender roles. He's never preferred his height, or standing taller than anyone else in the room. Lately he's started to grow a bit of facial stubble, but instead of feeling glad he seems to finally be hitting puberty, he finds himself uncomfortable, and ends up with razor burn trying shave it all off. It's mostly about the gender roles thing, though. That's what he thinks. Being a bit of a crier; that he always used to like to wear jewellery; and he much prefers to smell like fresh raspberries, to whatever soap is in men's deodorant; how he sometimes would rather like the look of womens-made clothing to men; and how he would like to experiment more with makeup sometime.

But all of that, is just what society expects of him. He's grown enough in the past few years to know that certain smells can't be gendered, and applying colourful alcoholic paint on your nails shouldn't be considered a women-only thing, when the very concept of women and men was made to be created by humanity.

Although he doesn't like the sound of his voice much either.

And then there's the repetitive, clicking keyboard in his ear.

  
Earlier in the year, Dan had decided his new year's resolution would be to try and find a genuine, constant source of happiness in his life. He'd made out that it was a bit of a stretch goal, but along that same line, he's found the phrase 'live your truth'.

It's what people say when they mean that you should try to put out an authentic version of yourself—try to do what you want with your life, within reasonable bounds.

He's already figured there's a few things that manage to make him consistently happy, but he can't make out if he is a genuine version of himself, entirely. He likes to think he's more transparent and honest with the world than he was even five years back, what with the help of therapy and better mental clarity. But there are so many things that he can't be sure about. Obviously, Dan's not going to be out telling the world that he shags Phil. That's not his decision to make—and he's not sure he'd even want to shatter that comfortable privacy-barrier from the media. Coming out in general, seems an unnecessary act to him. He's gone on and on about how straight shouldn't be considered the default, how old-fashioned that way of thinking is.

But then again, he's not sure why he's only thinking of the world's perception of him. He should try to be more authentic and truthful within himself, too. He should try to live his own truth.

  
Days later, he's fallen down that hole again. Alone in bed at quarter nine, as Phil's gone off making them a curry dinner. He's far beyond Reddit threads, now, researching on every forum at the backwaters of the internet, to see if his feelings mean something, or if he should let it go and accept himself as just the more feminine cis-male that he's seen to be.

After forty minutes, he's eating together on the sofa with Phil. He ends up asking anyway. "D'you think I might be non-binary?"

The room smells strongly of seasoned pepper and spices. Everything feels white-hot.

"Dunno. Do you?"

"I mean—" Dan shifts so he's looking directly at Phil, setting his bowl down in front of him and going cross-legged. "Like, I dunno." He laughs to himself. "I've been reading a lot about it lately, the past few days, and it seems... like some of it I get. I don't know if I really feel like, a hundred percent male. Maybe seventy percent. But there's a lot of stuff I see that I don't feel—like I don't really care that my chest is flat. Or that my legs are hairy. And I mostly don't mind wearing guys clothes, but I don't mind wearing womens clothes either. Or unisex. What even is gender, y'know?"

Phil's been listening and nodding along intently, having set his plate down as well. "Gender is weird. But you don't really... you don't need to think too hard on a label, if you don't really want to. Just think about, like, whatever makes you the most comfortable."

"Yeah,"

  
15.

It's months past, and they're only hours away from performing their first Interactive Introverts show in Brighton.

Backstage at the venue, Dan's been nervously chewing at his nails for the past twenty minutes, scrolling absentmindedly through Twitter, not paying attention to anything but his anxious thoughts in the least.

This is the type of anxiety where nothing can distract him from the nerves. His heartbeat racing just a bit too quickly to be liked, and his palms becoming sticky with sweat so as it’s accidentally mistyped words while searching Google for articles he won't read. He's sure it's a bit of adrenalin, performing onstage properly for the first time since TATINOF. Fears of fucking up and saying something wrong. Or just in general, if it's even the same audience that likes him in the same way—which, if he's being honest, it isn't really. And he doesn't know if he can do this.

"I'm gonna go to the toilets." Dan says, standing up from his found spot on the sofa. It was mostly spoken for Phil, but another one of their crew guys nods in his direction.

"Want me to come with you?" Asks Phil, without looking up from the game he's got on his phone. It's the same set of controlled nerves for him, too.

"Nah, s'fine."

He spends upwards of ten minutes walking through the narrow halls of their venue, trying to displace some of his nervous energy, mentally berating himself for biting his nails and ruining them more than he already has done.

Dan does end up at the front of the toilets, if only to splash some water on his face and attempt to calm himself down in the moment.

Standing to the left of him, there's two doors—men and women. With the little figures. He knows he's supposed to go in the mens, and it's more than far reasonable in this situation. But his thoughts are sharply drawn back to that reply on Reddit, months earlier.

_I'm not even a thought to 99% of the population and my insides are being squeezed when I'm forced to confront that._

His feet are found trapped in place to the floor, vacant eyes, staring—probably for longer than would be deemed necessary or right by most people. All his senses seem to want to pick up on, in that second of a minute, is the smell of damp toilet paper and chemical soap.

He doesn't end up splashing any water to his face.

However, when he's performing onstage later in the day, he does take a moment for himself to complain about the lack of gender-neutral toilets in the venue. The audience cheers for it.

  
47.

While they were at a souvenir shop in Russia, Dan had decided to buy himself what the salesman had called a 'traditional Russian journal', although he thinks more realistically, it was just a plain leather-bound journal for a higher cost.

He had bought it along with two black-inking pens, because he suddenly felt up to getting back in a writing mood.

Midway through last year, when he had found himself with an abundance of time and cool August days, he'd gotten quite into journaling his thoughts and goals for the future. Granted, most of his writing from around that time had been about Interactive Introverts, and what he wanted for them and for the show. But he'd always enjoyed the hours of train rides and silent thought.

Now he's in a Starbucks. Phil’s sat across from him, deep into a new game he's sure to have found. Marianne and a few other crew members are scattered at various tables, wanting a moment of space to themselves.

And he's got the journal out, and a pen.

He figures it might be best to write whatever comes to his mind in the moment—like how it’s said, let his words flow through onto the page subconsciously.

After a few pages of mindless writings and ramblings about differences and similarities in culture, Russian LGBTQ+ rights, and falling back to the meetup in Moscow, he ends up thinking on the topic of his gender identity.

Dan doesn't know exactly what he's to be comfortable with, if the world is quite strictly gendered.

Names. He doesn't mind his name in the least, although he supposes Daniel particularly comes with variations. Dani, Dan, Daniela, Danny, Danielle. He doesn't particularly feel much towards those, either—it's all the same feeling to him. Maybe Danny, or Danielle if he was feeling abundantly feminine on a day.

Pronouns—are fine to him. Not bothering in one way or another. Everything is fine, 'they' is fine for him. 'She' might be fine too. Fine, fine, fine. And this is fine.

He thinks a moment about what it would all feel like to him, if there'd be any change in emotional response; "There's Dan, he's over by the fence." Or, "There's Dani, they're over by the fence." He decides they're perfectly fine, he'd answer to both. He finds it harder to envision: "There's Daniela, she's over by the fence." But he wouldn't rule it all out. He doesn't know about the gendered meaning behind the sentences written.

There's gendered language too, if he's going at it all by rule. Sir, man, husband, boyfriend, lad. Mostly, it's fine. Phil already has a habit of calling him his partner more often than his boyfriend. He doesn't like the word 'man' describing him, for some reason. It feels just that tiny bit off, that tiny itch under the surface of his skin. So he's not a man, but he's not properly a boy either, because he's gone past his mid twenties. He's just a person.

There are only a few parts of his body he particularly dislikes, or likes. His voice, he doesn't like. He can't name the cause—apart from his inherited Winnie the Pooh type pronunciation, and the relentless teasing for it—but it just feels off, in spite of that. He doesn't like the thickness of his hands, and he doesn't like how he's always the tallest in the room; crouches down in oversized jumpers and tries to appear smaller next to Phil. He doesn't like how soft his face is, either. How it lacks the proper masculine shape. Maybe that one’s just societies expectations for male beauty. Despite the late onset of puberty, he isn't particularly fond of having the dark facial stubble or, God forbid, a beard. But Dan loves his eyes. And his lips. He thinks they're soft, strawberry coloured lips. He has a good back, too—likes the mass and curve to it.

"Dan?" He's taken directly from his thoughts by Phil, tapping his shoulder and informing him that they're off to the next Russian tourist stop. The café is very suddenly overwhelming to his senses, with the smells of Latte and baked goods, and the sounds of gentle conversation in a language he can't know.

"Mmm," He replies, trying to calm from the brief moment of absolute disconnection to the outside world. But this is real. "Uh, yeah. Coming. Wait a sec'."

  
19.

They're in Finland, sitting on Phil's hotel room bed and unboxing the Chinese food that's just been delivered.

Dan finds himself to be enjoying the calm sorts of atmosphere here—and all the places they've travelled to thus far have been wonderful, but something about the sounds of the ocean and gulls together, as the sun is setting, is just a bit reminiscent of white noise machines he used to sleep to. Relaxing aura to it. He's also sitting in his Game of Thrones joggers, and the Space Cat shirt he got in Florida last year, which is his favourite lazy-day outfit. And he's happy.

Phil's put on an Anime—Dan can't quite remember the name, but it's more likely a filler Anime they sometimes put on when they're too far out of it to find something proper to watch while they eat. But he's put one on, and they're sitting side-to-side and eating chow-mein in their silent serenity.

After this, they get out their fortune cookies to open them. Phil goes first.

"If you're riding ahead of the herd, look back once in a while to make sure it's still there." He reads out to Dan. "What d'you think that's supposed to mean?"

"Hmm... dunno. Maybe, like, look behind you to make sure you don't forget me when we get off the train."

He laughs, "Did you just call yourself part of the herd?"

"Is that a bad thing? I think community can be good."

"Isn't 'the herd' is supposed to be like, the unassuming hivemind, though? Sheeple thing."

"True, I'm too woke to be a sheeple." He giggles.

"Definitely."

They both end up losing themselves in laughter for a moment, before Phil, red cheeks and messed hair, looks back to Dan. "Now yours."

"'Kay." Dan opens his cookie, tossing it aside before reading out his fortune. "Now is the time to make circles with mints, do not haste any longer."

"'Circles with mints'. What does that mean?"

"Uh, wait, lemme look it up." He says, already pulling out his phone. "Apparently it means—taking matters into your own hands. So I guess 'Now is the time to take matters into your own hands, don't wait any longer.’ Huh."

"What—that's such a strange expression. But, yeah, Danny. Don't wait any longer. Stop procrastinating."

Dan rolls his eyes, "Name one thing I'm procrastinating right now."

"Probably our laundry."

"Not fair. I'm still traumatized by public laundromats from university. Your turn."

"Maybe."

"Def."

"Rock, paper, scissors."

"Alright, mate. Let's go."

  
It's just past three, and Dan is laying silent, in the dark stillness of the hotel room.

Phil's sleeping beside him, cuddling closely into his right arm and radiating gentle, calm breathing into the room. It's a grounding presence at least.

And Dan is so far from sleep, blankly staring at the ceiling, hearing all too clearly the sporadic beating of his pulse; it's coming from every part of himself where it can be felt.

For some reason, even with thorough exhaustion from the day feeling as if it's etched into the chasm his bones, he can't fall into sleep. He is so tired, enough so that he's at the place in loss of consciousness where every thought he has is turned into a momentary dream. And he can't sleep. And he's tired.

The only other thoughts he could be having are about his fortune cookie from earlier. _Now is the time to make circles with mints, do not haste any longer._ Ever since sundown, the phrase has been playing repeat at the back of his head as a broken record. A constant reminder to himself, from and for something he never asked to be reminded of. There isn't particularly much he's avoiding tonight, but he's tired, and he doesn't need this, or to think.

Phil snuggles closer to his arm.

  
"Phil?"

It's quarter past four now, and Dan's mind is still running on highway and refusing to shut itself off.

"Phil." He pokes his shoulder, and Phil lets out a sleepy sound, before turning over again. "Phil." He says it a bit louder.

"Mmm... what?" Phil's already halfway gone again, and Dan pushes a bit more forcefully against him. "What?" He blinks, shifting over an inch towards Dan.

"Are you awake?"

"Mhmmm,"

Anxiety grows suddenly in Dan's chest, snaking around his entire being, and causing his voice in the room to be taken from him. But he's not going to be able to get himself to sleep at all tonight, unless he can somehow get his thoughts out in the world, to someone—always, that someone ought to be Phil.

"Can I talk?" He asks, losing all his sense of being articulate.

"Yeah?" Phil's a bit more cohesive, looking directly to Dan with drawn eyebrows. "Course."

He's staring, fixed at Phil's image. "Um,"

"You okay?"

"Yeah—just..." There's a beat of silence between them. "Okay, so, uh. Say I'm non-binary?"

His face softens. "Yeah?"

"And, uh, yeah."

"Okay."

"Like—would that mean anything? Other than me not being cis. Like, would I tell people? Would I have to change my name? I mean, not really. But like... ugh. Do I want to change my name? Or pronouns? Or, like. I dunno. I think I'm fine, but—this doesn't even make sense, but... y'know?"

"I mean—what do you want?"

"I don't know what I want."

"That's okay, then. We have time. Nothing but time."

"Thanks."

There's a few more moments of unsure quiet, before Phil is pulling Dan back towards the warmth of his chest, and together their breathing steadies out into sleep.

  
23.

In Poland, at a meet and greet, someone had given him nail polish. It was black and glittery. They'd given Phil hair products.

At the time, Dan had been genuinely happy for it. He'd told them that he would post a selfie soon; thanked them profusely.

He had wanted to. He still does want to. His nails have been much longer as of late, due to both him and Phil's consistent reminders that he shouldn't bite his nails, as it's not the best habit. Dan thinks his nails would look beautiful, just that little bit longer, a nice shade of black, and glitter. It would call attention to himself in a way he wouldn't at all mind.

Sitting alone on the hotel bed in Sweden, however, everything feels different—it all feels washed out and sort of grey.

Phil had just gone out to get them Swedish-themed sweets, and Dan had decided to wave off the offer of joining him. At the time, he didn't think it would be worth the trip of getting dressed up and going out to a foreign city, possibly to get turned all around. He trusted Phil to understand what he already does like, and his own tastes, so there wasn't much of a point.

Now, sitting by himself, in the cold air of a room in a foreign country, clouded by his own momentary fear and doubts, he would sell all his wishes to be wandering city streets, lost and looking for a recognisable tourist destination, with Phil.

Even after all these years, the comfort Phil is to bring to him had never faded away. If anything, building their life together as one only strengthened his consistent need for this one, single person.

Dan has tried so many times—over the past few months alone—to properly paint his nails. There's only a few selfies or dates, from the time's where he thinks he'd done well, or Phil had. Times will go unwritten, from where he'd been bored; lazy evenings in; before an event that he had managed to talk himself out of entirely. He can think back to a few times before YouNow shows, he would pull out one of the many matte-black bottles from their bedroom, and give up after only a few tries. He doesn't know why he does it. Maybe he wants it to look—perfect. Even so, Dan's never bothered actually asking a more experienced friend, or going to a nail salon.

This doesn't even matter, sitting on a white bedspread he won't ever use again, looking out to a sky he might never return to. It's all quite a temporary moment.

It isn't right, and he puts the bottle down to the bedside desk.

  
33.

It's their week back in London before the American leg of tour, and Dan is lying across their same grey sofa. Phil isn't beside him now, but he is just in the kitchen, making them both Ribena.

He's trolling through news articles on non-binary rights in countries across the world, finding them mostly to be barely-existing. He's grown quite into researching it—this thing he most likely is, and what he identifies with. There's very little time during this tight-packed tour to search much on these things, but whenever he can find the time, it's a least a topic for exploring.

Dan's also thought about this within himself, given more than enough time on car travels between Europe and U.K, whenever Phil's busy trying to sleep off the road-sickness.

There's still what he doesn't know about himself, but he thinks he knows about names and pronouns, now.

Phil sets down two glasses of Ribena on the lounge table, joining back to his spot beside Dan.

"Thanks." He says, straightening up and taking a sip.

"Mhm,"

Dan stretches out minutes of silence, paying unnecessary attention to the space around them both.

Eventually, "So, you know how I'm non-binary?"

Saying it aloud, so casually, feels a bit off. Maybe that is normal. This is technically the first time he has. Everything about this still feels like it has to be more important and new to him, even if it's not.

Phil subconsciously grows more pronounced to him. "Yes?"

"Okay, so, um. Pronouns." He feels as if he's promptly brought out a scientific paper, prepared explanations and facts to spill from deep inside wherever he's kept hidden for the past months. "Uh—he or they. But I guess it's just he-him for you, since you like, already know me." Dan feels his cheeks growing warmer. And this is just Phil.

"I mean—does it really matter if I've known you before or not? I still have to call you by the correct pronouns, right?"

Bless Phil for being so understanding, he thinks. "And, uh, names. Dan is fine, I guess. But, um—" He takes a breath, "Maybe don't call me like, a man? Dunno. That's weird. I'm not—yeah."

"Okay. What about 'boyfriend' or 'guy'? Or like, 'mate'? 'Lad'? 'Dude'?"

Dan forces out an awkward laugh. "When have you ever called me 'dude'? But yeah, that stuff is fine. Dunno."

"Anything else?"

"Not... yet."

"Alright." Phil says, and he's leaning closer to press a soft kiss to Dan's lips.

  
34.

Weeks later, they're in the U.S, and Dan is having a casual look through his Twitter mentions from after their Greensboro show.

It's one of his favourite things to do after a performance, as he finds it helps him connect a face, in a crowd of thousands, to reality. To a Twitter account, and a real human life. It can sometimes be good for his mental health, to know that this is all real.

Someone's tagged him in a thread, unrelated to Interactive Introverts, but detailing how he's helped on their journey of accepting themselves as non-binary. It catches his eye.

This person is genderfluid, apparently called Kacie, or Katie, and has just come out. They detail about their experience, and how his rants and acceptance on gender in the past have helped them become more confident in their own self, as well their gender—or lack thereof. They go on to state that they'll be seeing him and Phil in Toronto, and then to add on that they appreciate him, and to thank him.

They're far from the first non-binary fan he's seen thus far on tour. He's signed pride flags, and got thank you's from people for including non-conforming genders in everything—to which both he and Phil had both replied 'of course', because, of course—and his disagreement with gender roles; he's held up signs with people's pronouns, and told them he was glad they're living their truth.

He is glad to have made an important impact on people in this way, especially when such a large amount of their fans are LGBTQ+. It somehow matters to him to know that he's done what he knows his younger self would've needed, for at least one young person.

Something about this, though, feels different. It touches him more in a way he can't explain, makes him a bit more emotional for it. Because this is just a person—some random Twitter user among the millions. They're one, or two, or three views on the videos. One like on the tweets. But they're a real person, and he identifies with what they are in so many ways, and they're going to see him perform next week. A person in the audience, and they'll laugh at the jokes.

He doesn't quite get it, but it's feeling like it's making more sense.

  
58.

During the meetup in Chicago, a fan had given him what's apparently called 'mid-tone chocolate lipstick'. Which he had asked about, and he can't eat.

She reassures him multiple times over to only wear it if he's comfortable, that she's not trying to force him into anything he doesn't want, and that it was only just because he's acknowledged in the past that he thinks he might look good in lipstick.

He had been excited in the same way as Poland. Thanked her kindly, and they had been off.

The difference is that, now, he's standing steadily in front of a mirror, in the bathroom of their tour bus, in the U.S. He can hear the relentless road moving beneath his feet, and Marianne discussing something with someone over the phone.

Phil is only in the lounge of the bus, listening to some sorts of horror podcast, that he might as well end up waking Dan up for at three in the morning, because he'll probably have a nightmare that follows the exact same plot structure, but somehow ends up with a close family member dead. Or Dan. And he'll let Phil lay with him awhile in a too-cramped bunk, eventually falling asleep together and waking with a sore back.

This is all familiar in a strange way that Poland hadn't been, and it's comforting. It's much further away from everything he knows to love, but it doesn't make him the same homesick for the safety of their flat.

Dan takes the cap off the tube of lipstick, applies it gently with shaking fingers. He'd only watched a few makeup tutorials involving lipstick, but after as many seasons of Drag Race as there are, he feels like he could be okay.

He examines his work, decides upon that it's not too horrid of a job, and he could maybe show himself off to Phil.

Leaning halfway out of the bathroom, holding to the door, he calls Phil from the other room.

"Yeah?"

"Come in here for a minute?"

"Uh—alright. Wait a second."

Hearing the sounds of Phil getting up from the sofa and feet moving toward him, Dan backs away from the door and near to the sink.

"Hm?" Phil asks, entering the room, closing the door behind him.

"Lipstick." Dan answers simply. "See?"

He steps closer, "Oh. Yeah. It looks pretty, the colour suits you."

"It does. I really like it, though. I think it, uh, I dunno. It matches my monotone aesthetic, but it still works. I wouldn't go for black lipstick unless I really was desperate and wanted to travel back to 2008, for some reason. This is—I like it. Okay."

Phil laughs, "You don't need to explain it to me, yeah? I can already see you like it."

"Mhm. Don't kiss me right now, though, I don't know if that'll mess it up."

"I wasn't planning on it,"

"Rude."

 

37.

They're stopped in Phoenix, and all the others—save for Sarah, and Phil, who's still in his bunk trying to sleep off some early-morning nausea—have decided to go out to for brunch.

Dan's on his laptop in the first lounge, Skyping with his therapist.

"So, how have you been feeling so far on this tour?" She's asking.

He's sure she remembers what it had been like for him last time, at TATINOF, when he'd still felt so vulnerable to the slightest of things. When every day had felt far too difficult.

"Honestly, it's been great, so far. I really like—y'know, seeing everyone in real life. Talking to everyone. And being kept busy. It's nice not to think about things that much, and having a bit of a purpose, I guess."

He can hear the sounds of a chair moving somewhere off frame. "That's wonderful to hear, Dan,"

They speak about how he's been feeling—how his schedule and own self have been taken care of—for another fifteen minutes, before she's asking him: "Has there been anything else on your mind since we last spoke?"

"Uh, yeah, actually. I was um..." He thinks this is important, a good reason to have a therapist. Having a professional to tell everything he's feeling to without fear of judgement, or criticism, or 'Are you really sure?' This is nice for him. "I was—for the past few months—like, questioning my gender. If I'm actually properly a man," He cringes. Probably too early in his day for this discourse, but timezones leave very little breathing room for these things. "Or like, if I'm non-binary or something. I'm not transgender, though. I think I'm non-binary."

His breathing is hitched.

When Dan was five, his family had travelled to an indoor pool somewhere in the north of England. It had automated sorts of waves that would go off every half hour, and apparently no one had thought to inform his tiny childhood self of this in the moment. They had started with a loud alarm-type of noise, and began drowning out some of the older kids and pushing them to the pools floor. He had been shoved down underwater completely, gasping for air as the water kept coming in larger bursts, leaving him just a spare half-second to attempt to catch his breath and get his footing sorted—it never had been enough time, and Dan had almost drowned in the children's pool, hours away from his home. That's the sort of thing he's feeling now.

"Okay. Well that's fine, love." She replies with the gentle, caring tone of a mother—which is rather rare for these sessions. "Are you feeling like you want to be referred to by a different name, or pronouns?"

He spends the rest of their time explaining to her pronouns and names; how sometimes his body doesn't feel exactly right; sometimes he doesn't feel exactly right; Phil's reaction and how he thinks he'll go about it all. Everything else that he'd written about in Russia.

When the call ends, and he can finally lean back into the sofa, his chest feels just that little bit lighter.

 

6.

He's in Australia, the day he wakes up and doesn't feel quite right with himself.

It's not the usual strangeness that he can wake with—not that clouded-over feeling of absolute nothing he's felt on days for more than a decade. This is, in every way, so much different than that.

He doesn't feel properly right, either, when Phil mumbles something about 'breakfast with Dan', into the phone half an hour later. It's the same itchy-skin feeling he gets when he's referred to as a man, but it's almost worse. Instead of wanting to scratch at himself, he wants to crawl out entirely. Remove himself from the situation, and the body, and the life. And it's only because he's been called his own name.

When Phil walks back over to the bed, Dan's too late to try and hold onto his tongue. "Can you please not... call me that?"

Phil's face twists into an unfortunate worry of sorts. "What?"

"My name,"

"Dan?"

"Yeah."

He sits back on the bed, and Dan still has the duvet pulled up all the way to just past his shoulders. Phil puts a comforting hand against Dan's knee, his thumb going naturally to rub against the fabric. "What would you rather be called?"

"Uh—maybe..." He considers for a moment, all the possible synonym-types to his name. "Dani?"

"Mm, alright. Dani."

"And..." He doesn't know exactly, but maybe today isn't a day for masculine pronouns. "Like—can you use... genderless pronouns? Like, uh, you know. They-them."

"Right. So if I was talking about you—'Dani asked if they could have more marshmallows?'"

Dani's surprised by just how right that sentence feels, to be spoken aloud. It's not fully that it feels more them than anything else, on another day. Today it's what sounds right. That's what they think.

"Mmm, yeah. I guess that's it."

"That's okay, then." He pauses, "What do you want for breakfast?"

  
Both them and Phil don't end up getting dressed—or leaving their hotel room—until midway through the day, much preferring a lazy in-day to another tourist attraction or restaurant. It's not that those aren't lovely things in a very lovely place, but they get tired. They both do. Sometimes a bit of a rest can be nice.

Around one in the afternoon, Phil had suggested they try to play functional adults, and to answer a few emails, before going back to binging their latest Netflix show.

It seemed reasonable at the time, but now that Dani's having a look through their clothes, they all seem just that bit too masculine for today. Which is odd, since they've always had a rather androgynous fashion sense.

A few minutes later, standing in pants and looking in the bathroom mirror, all they can see is the masculine-coded shapes their body forms to. When Dani was younger, and only really up until a few years ago, their body shape had resembled that of an unimportant line which couldn't be resembled as much at all. Now, they have broad shoulders. They have a bit of muscle in their arms from exercises, their waist isn't anywhere near curved, and they look just like a man. They look like a man should, and that doesn't feel okay. They don't want to look like a man.

Dani goes back to the main part of the room, frowning to themselves. It's noticeable enough for Phil to ask what's wrong.

"I don't know. I, uh. I just look like a man."

They're guessing Phil doesn't have a reply to that particular answer, because he just stares hopelessly, for a moment longer than he perhaps should. "Want a hug?"

"Mm."

Dani crosses the room into his arms, burying their head in his shoulder, hands tight around his back, and breathing in berry-scented shampoo.

Phil smells as a home should.

  
11.

"Dan,"

They're cuddled up together under a fresh-washed duvet in New Zealand. Taking a moment to enjoy the warmth and solitude of each other's skin, and breathing, and presence.

"Mmmm?" Dan buries his face deeper into the space between Phil's chest and neck.

"I know, like—I've been going along with whatever you tell me, with you being non-binary. And because I love you. But—I don't really know what I'm supposed to do."

He looks up to face Phil. "What d'you mean?"

Phil sits himself up slightly to the pillows. "I want to be able to help you—and I've read all the articles and blogs and stuff, but they're not really you, are they? And I wanna know what you want, I guess. Or if I'm doing this right at all," He sighs. "And I don't want to fuck this up."

Dan lets out a small laugh, despite the heavy silence that's fallen over the room. "Don't worry, you've been amazing. Eleven out of ten, for sure." He straightens up a bit more, "You’re fine," and kisses the left of Phil's shoulder, “You’re fine.”

"Yeah, but like... anything else? Because—"

"Call me beautiful, then. And pretty. Definitely tell me I'm pretty."

Phil looks up, smiles, pokes at Dan's dimple. "You're pretty."

"Thanks.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for pff ii fest 2 with help and encouragement from my beta @pinkpuddles25 on tumblr
> 
> based off my gender crisis for the past month exlusively
> 
> tbh i might add more to this fic/collection at one point or another bc i have a few more things 2 say..... like dan coming out to anyone other than the one person he already knows will love him unconditionally (i do have more things to say. i will make a collection maybe)
> 
> (also this has absolute irrelevance to anything but the title is referencing the liveshow dan did in nov. where he said "it's like you're debating peoples right to exist" in a rant about transgender rights but it also could be a wordplay "(it's) right to exist" as in It Is Right To Exist thank you for coming to my tedtalk uvu)
> 
> tumblr is @phansb


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